


doesn't the night go slow?

by zagluna



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Modern Royalty, Other, Slow Burn, bon appetit wlw, canon has been deconstructed like an overpriced artisanal dish, then reconstructed into the dramatic lesbian comfort food we all deserve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-08 04:02:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13450122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zagluna/pseuds/zagluna
Summary: Shay Vox knows next to nothing about Altean politics or the royal family. When a mysterious, mustachioed nobleman enlists her to be the lady-in-waiting for the Princess, the job is nothing like she expected – and neither is the Princess.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Nothing Gold Can Stay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047210) by [perkynurples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perkynurples/pseuds/perkynurples). 



Shay Vox looks down at the two fraying duffel bags and three suitcases on the airport floor. _It looked like a lot more stuff in my dorm,_ she thinks. She hoists the first bag onto the luggage belt.

Shay didn’t bring much to her first year of studying abroad - she wasn’t a naturally tidy person, and even when she tried to be, mess seemed to follow her. Take, for example, the outdated pink bedroom stuffed with middle school trophies and too-small, too-femme clothes in her parents house in Altea. When her tastes in expression had changed, instead of getting rid of things and re-painting, she’d just kind of layered over them with new clothes and lots of posters. Moving out had practically excavated the girl Shay used to be. She hadn’t anticipated having to clean her up so soon. _I will not worry about home just yet. First, security._

She separates the contents of her backpack into the plastic airport bins, and when she gets to her laptop she lifts the lid to check on her photographs.

They’re still there, and thankfully still unbent. Her favourite keepsakes from the last 9 months are these dozen Polaroids, taken on a borrowed camera at a party earlier in the year. Shay had been very eager to document just how much fun she was having in a new place with new people - she’d mellowed out and settled in as the year went on, but these pictures and the nights they represent are very bright memories. Shay can see herself clearly in the topmost picture: she’s the tallest one in the frame, with dark skin and natural hair in two large tufts on either side of her head. She’s wearing her favourite red plaid shirt, and black plugs in her ears. Even though the frame is small, and it’s a group shot with the other girls on the track and field team, she can make out her broad smile. Her arms are thrown around the girls on either side of her, and Shay feels a small pang in her chest.

She shuts the lid and lets the laptop through the X-ray machine.  The security officer motions her to walk through the gate, and she reassures herself. _Your friends are not going to forget you. It was not goodbye. Not forever, anyway._

As she’s lacing her boots up, her phone rings from inside the X-ray machine. The person looking at the screen shoots her a look, and she shrugs. Not much to do about it. They let the tray through, and Shay quickly answers.

“Hello?”

“Hello, it is Grandma.” The quick, stuttered syllables of her native language, Balmeran, echo out of the tinny speaker. “Where are you, it is very loud!”

“Sorry, airport security,” Shay says, pointedly avoiding the officer’s gaze and hopping back towards her bags on one boot.

“Ah, so you are ready to fly then? How were your exams?”

“Just one exam, chemistry. I finished the rest of my courses in the spring. And it went… just fine. I think I passed. You have to tell Dad it went really good, though.”

“Pfft, tell his Lordship yourself.” Grandma scoffs, and Shay rolls her eyes.

“You are really not supposed to call him that,” she says. Grandma had always called her son-in-law his Lordship, despite Shay’s mother’s protests. It was the formal way to address the Earl Vox of Jabeera, of course, but the title didn’t at all fit the shy high school teacher. It certainly wasn’t the way Shay’s mother, a Balmeran miner and a thoroughly working class woman, thought of her husband.

“My apologies, little Lady. I had forgotten to address you with your due respect.”

“Okay, now that you are _really_ not supposed to call me. I can get you in trouble with Mom, you know.”

“I am sure she has forgotten about that rule by now. Besides, it was not my fault in the first place. How can I be blamed for you declaring use of the playground the sole and sovereign right of Lady Shay?”

“You told me that being an Altean Lady meant dressing up and taking what I wanted from the commoners.”

“You should have known I was joking!”

“I was six.”

“Of course, your Ladyship. It is the fault of I, your lowly subject, as usual.”

Both of them giggle. The joke is well-worn, but neither of them mind.

“Actually Grandma, there is something I have been meaning to tell you.” Shay says as she spots the line at her gate. Over the loudspeakers, someone calls in Altean, the common language, for boarding to begin. _Perfect timing._

“What is it, child?”

“This is not just a summer visit - I am moving back home.”

Grandma gasps.

“Really? But what about university? You are not quitting, are you?”

“No, just taking a break.” Shay sighs. “I did not do poorly, I am just not sure what I want to study next. It will be just as easy to think about that question living at home with you and Mom and Dad than it would be living alone and far away.”

Grandma pauses, considering this. “If you are certain is it just a school matter, then I will be happy to have you back in Altea.”

Shay smiles. “I am, don’t worry. My friends will wait for me, and my coach has already said that there will be a place on the track and field team for me if I keep up with my training. It will be a fresh start, and I will not have to waste a year of tuition money to get it.”

“And I will help you to figure it out! When you get home, I will make you my special stew, and we will have a long talk.”

Shay grimaces at the thought of her Grandma’s cooking.

“Sorry Grandma, they are calling for boarding, goodbye!” She hangs up, and turns off her phone for the flight. Hopefully, her mom will intervene in the dinner prep before Grandma gets too far ahead.

With nothing left to distract her from the boarding line, Shay begins to people watch. Immediately, she notices that something seems off. For one, she’s sure she heard the boarding call a few minutes ago, but the line is completely still. She’s standing about a dozen people back. Leaning out,, she can see that the woman behind the counter is talking to two men in tight black and grey uniforms.

Their backs are to Shay, but she can see the woman well enough. She’s gesturing back and forth between the line and herself. She looks a little flustered, maybe even afraid. _Are those airport security?,_ Shay thinks. The smaller man crosses his arms, and Shay can see some sort of holster at his side. _Do airport security carry guns?_

The woman nods, and the men split up. The smaller one with the gun splits off from the line and walks away, feigning an easygoing stroll. He scans the rows of chairs near the gate with a stare that’s way too intense for people-watching. The taller man turns to the first person in line, and gestures for their passport.

Shay feels a shiver down her back like a cool stream of water. _Is flying to Altea supposed to be dangerous right now?_ She doesn’t keep up with the news, or even read headlines much, and usually this doesn’t concern her. Now she’s wishing she had some sort of context for this.

As the man slowly moves down the line towards her, she focuses on more of the details, trying to create a story that will help explain this to her. There’s a small crest on the front of his uniform that she doesn’t recognize. The man himself looks mostly average, a burly security type - except for his hair. It’s cropped closely at the sides, and black like his partner’s, except for the center, where it’s shocked white and thin, growing down over his forehead. It might almost be punk, except it doesn’t look dyed - it looks dead.

Too soon, he’s in front of her, and her heart is racing. _Pull yourself together, Shay. You are making this much more stressful than it probably needs to be,_ she thinks.

“Passport, please,” the man says. His voice is professional, but not rude. _See?_

Shay hands it over, and avoids his eyes by studying the crest on his uniform more closely. The outline is gold, with one half in royal blue and one half in orange. In the centre of the crest is a gold pointed crown - the Crown of Altea, the symbol of the King. _Who are these guys?_

The man glances in between Shay’s face and her passport ID: then he does it again. He narrows his eyes.

“Miss Vox, please come with me.” he says quietly.

“P-pardon?” Shay feels her face pale. She wants to ask what she did, or what’s going on, but the man has turned away from her and pressed a hand to his ear, mumbling something unintelligible. _Quiznak,_ she thinks, _is he wearing an earpiece? Like in a movie?_

“A-are you sure? I really don’t think that’s necessary.” Shay replies, surprised at how much quieter her voice is than she was expecting. Should she be yelling? Causing a scene? The second one has a gun...

Suddenly, a hand grips her bicep. The smaller man is just behind her right shoulder, not scanning the crowd anymore. For a moment, Shay thinks he looks about her age, and becomes slightly less intimidated. Then the hand tightens, and she reassesses that thought.

“He’s already here, Captain. We need to move,” he says.

“I know, Lieutenant. I don’t want to start anything.” The Captain gives Shay a patient smile which doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“The flight has been delayed, and I promise it won’t leave without you. Follow us, Miss Vox,” he says.

 _Do I have a choice?_  Shay wonders. She nods mutely, and lets them lead her away.

  

* * *

  

Shay’s never been in trouble with the law, but she’s watched enough police procedurals to know what an interrogation room is supposed to look like.

 _Yup. This is definitely an interrogation room_.

One table, two chairs, a long mirror on one of the empty walls that just _has_ to be two-way. Could someone be watching her from behind there, analyzing her every move? Shay decides that she won’t sit down. It’s arbitrary, and a little silly, but she feels a tiny bit more in control when she can move freely around the room.

The two men - _the Captain and the Lieutenant,_ she corrects herself - left her alone in here only a few minutes ago, shutting the door behind them.  She guesses they didn’t really need to stay - what was she going to do, leave? If they were checking passports, she certainly wouldn’t be able to get on the plane until they were through with her. But what did that ‘through with her’ mean? _What did I do?_

The door swings open with a bang, and Shay jumps.

“Ah, Lady Vox! Sorry to keep you waiting.” Shay squares up to assess her interrogator. _Focus, Shay._ He’s a middle-aged man, speaking Altean, wearing an expensive-looking dark blue suit. He’s slim, probably not another soldier - and he has  perhaps the reddest and fanciest handlebar mustache she has ever seen.

“Sir Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service.” He bows with a quick bobbing motion, and Shay doesn’t really know what to do about that, but luckily he doesn’t wait for her to curtsey. He sits down, and gestures to the opposite chair.

“Take a seat! We have much to discuss, and you have a plane to catch.”

Shay realizes that she’s still standing up against the back wall, where she jumped to when the door slammed. Cautiously, she sits across from him. _This is getting more bizarre by the minute._

“Who are… why am I… am I under arrest, Sir?”

The man smiles, and it’s so genuinely chipper that it’s almost frightening. “Please! Call me Coran, I insist. And no, you’re not under arrest - you haven’t broken any laws, have you?”

Shay hopes that’s a rhetorical question.

“Of course not!” Coran says, ignoring her pause. “I apologize if Captain or Lieutenant Shirogane scared you, but I needed to speak with you in private, and this seemed the simplest way.” He lifts a leather briefcase from below the table, and clicks it open, removing a stack of papers.

“Simp… having two soldiers nab me from a stalled airplane is simple? Who _are_ you? And why do you need to talk to me anyway?”

Coran finishes shuffling his papers around, and spins one stack towards Shay.

“I’m giving you a job, Lady Vox.”

The top page of the stack is heavy bond paper, emblazoned with the Altean flag. Shay picks up the contract and stares, trying to wrap her head around the opening line:

**This contract serves to grant Lady Shay Vox, as a member of the King’s Royal Court, the honourable position of Lady-in-Waiting to the Princess Allura of Altea.**

Shay laughs, in spite of herself.

“Okay, okay, nice. This is a prank. Does this mean I’m not in trouble, and I can go?”

“I can assure you, there is nothing particularly funny about the contract.” Coran quirks an eyebrow, and folds his hands on the table in front of him. “I warn you, if this is some sort of negotiation tactic, you should know what you’re up against.” he says, squinting in what Shay guesses is supposed to be his poker face. “I’ve bargained Altea’s trade agreements with the Unilu delegation since before you were born. Nothing gets past me.”

“Good… for you. I don’t know what that is. Look, Sir -”

“Coran, please.”

“Fine, _Coran._ This has been a very weird day, and I’m sorry I laughed at your contract. I’m just a bit confused. Even if you’re not joking, you must have made some sort of mistake. I’m not even sure what a lady-in-waiting to a Princess does, let alone if I’m qualified.”

Coran twirls his mustache. “You know, the title is mostly traditional, and it does come off as a bit archaic on paper. You could call yourself something else if you wished. Would you prefer ‘handmaiden’? Or perhaps ‘personal assistant’? That sounds very Hollywood. Could be a hit with millenials.”

 _The more this guy talks, the harder it is to take him seriously,_ Shay thinks.

“As for why I would like you for the position, you have a few unique qualifications that make you well-suited for the Princess. For one, you’re of a noble line. The Crown can’t hire a commoner to work so closely with a member of the Royal Family. Tradition and discretion are of the utmost importance.”

“That’s nothing unique to me - half of the Alteans in the country have some sort of a title.”

Coran shoots her a look, and she feels sheepish for interrupting.

“Actually, it’s only about 14 percent,” he says. “And within that percent, the majority are male, or older than yourself. Which brings me to your second qualification.”

“What, my age?”

“Precisely. What exactly do you know about Princess Allura?”

Shay wracks her brain, and comes up short. She can picture King Alfor well enough: white hair under the gold crown, formal suit. In her mind he stands behind a podium against a blue backdrop, probably a picture she’s compiled from a lifetime of newspaper front pages on her kitchen table. He’s always standing alone.

“To be honest, I wasn’t even sure we had a Princess. Is the King married?”

Something flickers in Coran’s eyes.

“No, not anymore.” Shay can sense that she’s hurt him in some way, although she’s not quite sure how. Amazing how she feels guilty about hurting a stranger who just detained her plane and arrested her, just to talk about a job.

“I do my best to keep the Princess out of the spotlight, so I can understand why you don’t know much about her. Her mother died when she was very young. A tragedy, for the Crown and the country.” Coran shakes his head as if clearing away a memory. “Naturally, following Queen Fala’s passing, I selected ladies-in-waiting of an older generation. I thought that Allura would benefit from having a maternal figure around. Someone to care for her like a mother should.”

Shay pictures a bratty little girl in a princess-pink dress barking orders to a matronly nanny. “Oh no, I’m not built for babysitting,” she cuts him off.

“Babysitting! This is a prestigious position!” Coran raises his voice. “Technically, this is a courtesy meeting. You’re an Altean noble citizen of age, I could have simply conscripted you into service to the Crown. The job is yours already.”

Shay huffs. “Not my problem, mustache man. I don’t care how burly your backup is, if you tried to conscript me, nothing could stop me from telling that story. And I’m willing to bet you don’t want that kind of publicity.” She stands to go. “I’m really sorry, but this whole thing has gone on long enough. I have to go home. The answer is no.”

“Wait!” Coran says. He seems to have deflated, slumping down in his chair. The front buttons of his fancy suit jacket bunch up. His voice softens.

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to threaten you. I’ve gone about this all wrong. I only just thought… I only mean… well, the Princess. Allura. She hated most of those ladies-in-waiting. They were over-protective nannies, more invested in her status as the future of the country than in her. Something needs to change. Shay, I’m not asking you to take care of her, just… I’d like you to be her friend. Please.”

The care and feeling in Coran’s voice throws Shay off balance. He really seemed to have gone out of his way to be a buffoon, and he certainly doesn’t know how to go about offering a regular person a job. But he does genuinely care about this girl, this Princess Allura. He’s been nothing but genuine since he burst through the door. At the heart of the Castle, could there really be a lonely little girl who just needs a friend? The idea touches Shay’s heart. _I was looking for a fresh start,_ she thinks. _Maybe this would be an exciting experience. Besides, how hard can it be to babysit a princess for a year?_

Coran sighs heavily. “I really didn’t want to have to do this.”

He grabs her contract and flips a few pages in. Taking his pen, he points towards a five-digit number in a block of text. “I’ll move that decimal place if I have to. Just take the job, please?”

Shay's eyes nearly pop out of her skull. It’s almost double her first year’s tuition fees. “Is that… my salary?”

A twinkle sparks to life in Coran’s dark blue eyes.

“Lady Vox, that’s your signing bonus.”

He turns to the signature page, and holds the pen out in front of her.

“Do we have a deal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short intro chapter to get everyone in place! If you're reading this, and you're also a fan of the Hobbit, PLEASE check out Nothing Gold Can Stay. I'm basing the general shape of the plot/Altean monarchy off of NGCS/Erebor, but you won't be spoiled for this story by reading it, I promise. I've linked it as an inspiration.
> 
> I'll be trying to update every two weeks! In the next chapter, prepare for a proper introduction to Lieutenant Keith, the Castle, and Allura - who is not, as Shay assumes, a little girl in need of babysitting. Shame on you, Coran, for not clearing that up.


	2. Chapter 2

 

> _Shay's eyes nearly pop out of her skull. It’s almost double her first year’s tuition fees. “Is that… my salary?”_
> 
> _A twinkle sparks to life in Coran’s dark blue eyes._
> 
> _“Lady Vox, that’s your signing bonus.”_
> 
> _He turns to the signature page, and holds the pen out in front of her._
> 
> _“Do we have a deal?”_

* * *

 

It occurs to Shay, about a week after her encounter with Coran and the two mysterious soldiers, that she should have read the fine print in that contract before immediately signing over her year. Or at least had a lawyer check it over.

True to Coran’s word, the airplane waited for her on the runway, and upon boarding she was treated to an upgrade to first class and complimentary drinks for the entire flight. When her family met her at the gate, it had been all she could do not to immediately rip the contract out of her backpack and tell them everything.

She made it through the casual small-talk and the winding drive from the airport to her family home in the hills above Arus, Altea’s capital city. She even made it through the door, and through stacking her luggage inside the entryway. She made sure everyone was sitting down around the kitchen table - and then, she announced her new job.

Grandma just laughed. Her mother was indignant about the treatment Shay had received at the hands of the two soldiers, and then uncertain about whether Shay had put herself into a situation she was not prepared for. Her father was proud, even though Shay insisted there was nothing particularly remarkable that she had done to merit Coran’s offer. He convinced her mother that there was nothing dangerous about taking on the responsibilities of a court position. “Besides,” he remarked, “Altea is at peace. To have the chance to see the country at its source, inside the Castle, will be a good experience.”

Goodbyes were said before her parents left for work that morning. If any doubts linger in Shay’s mind, about the contract or the implications of working with royalty, it's too late to act on them. The armoured red SUV honking in the driveway confirms that.

Shay grabs her bags from beside the door, and pauses for a moment on the step. She wonders if crossing it will make this moment seem more real. Is she really going to live in the Castle and work for the royal family? For a Princess no less? Shay wondered every day since her meeting with Coran what kind of child the Princess will be. Lonely, temperamental, spoiled, or a regular, happy kid? She doesn’t have a lot of experience with children to draw on, but she told Coran as much in their meeting. Maybe this mysterious Princess won’t be as challenging as she expects.

She crosses the threshold, and climbs in the backseat of the red SUV.

 _This thing is like a luxury tank,_ Shay thinks, eyes widening as she takes in the interior. The windows are set into the wall like tiny screens, and when the door is open she can see how thick the glass is. She chucks her bags a bit too hard into the red and beige leather seat, and cringes at herself.

_I guess I will have to get used to expensive things… and trying not to damage them._

“Sorry about that,” Shay says. There’s no response from the driver. In fact, the driver is nowhere to be seen. The cab of the SUV is cut off by a black divider, the kind that she might have expected in a limousine. There’s a part up high that looks sort of like a window, so she taps on it as the car starts rolling.

It whirs down electronically, and Shay gasps.

_“You!”_

“Morning, Shay. How was your week?” The Lieutenant from the airport keeps his eyes on the road. His messy hair obscures his face from this angle, but Shay is sure that he’s making fun of her.

“Oh, peachy, how about you? Kidnap anyone else?” Shay spits out.

“That’s classified, actually. My name’s Keith.”

Shay stares him down. Initially, she was intimidated by the soldiers, but now that she knows how completely benign Coran is, she figures this guy can’t be much more intimidating than an over-zealous cop. Still, she can’t say that she would be this bold without that divider between them.

Keith ignores her stare. “I guess I… didn’t give you a chance to introduce yourself. I do know who you are, though. It’s kind of my job. Garrison, you know how it is,” he says with a shrug.

“No, I don’t know,” Shay says. She crosses her arms, and leans back in her seat. “I thought you were a Lieutenant. Why are you driving me to the Castle, Keith… if that is your real name.”

He laughs once, which surprises Shay. “I wear a lot of hats, I guess. Today, I’m just a chauffeur. The Garrison is the official security and police force for the Crown. You remember my brother?”

“The Captain?”

“Yeah, Shiro. He’s Garrison too - he’ll be the Commander, someday. He’ll probably have to brief you on some security stuff, when we get there.”

They drive in silence for a while, through the suburbs and down into the valley where the sprawl coalesces into the city proper. Historical buildings with modern glass upper stories and green roofs are a common sight in Arus. The city is old, but Altea is well-known for technological innovation, particularly when it comes to green energy. The Crown is responsible for a lot of the country’s research grants, and probably a good percentage of these structures.

“We’re almost at the square,” Keith says at a stoplight. “You can see the Castle from here.”

Shay cranes her neck to see out the windshield. The light turns green, and Keith drives them off the main road into a large cobblestone square. Then, where the square ends and the Arus valley meets the mountains, she sees the Castle.

There are five white towers, bright against the forested slope still rich and green with late summer. Tall windows in the towers reflect the blue morning sky back out onto the city. There are several low, two-story wings branching off of the central palace, framed with well-tended paths and gardens. Shay has seen the Castle before, of course - but she’s never been inside, and never looked at it and known it was about to become her home. Her temporary home, anyways.

They drive up the spotless white gravel path to a huge iron gate. Keith rolls down his window to enter a code into a keypad.

“Shouldn’t there be more cars? Are we late?” Shay says. Theirs is the only car on the road ahead, and other than a few landscapers, there isn’t a sign of life on the Castle grounds.

“Most staff live in the Castle,” Keith says, “so there’s not a lot of commuters.” The gate rises, and they pass through. He gestures out his window to the closest two-story outcropping, fronted by massive stone lion statues.

“That wing is the Garrison, and the Household wing is above us now,” he says, pulling into an underground parking lot. He brings the car up to another panel, stopping to punch in another code.

“There are a lot more part-timers in Household, who don’t live on-site. They only get called in for big events, balls and stuff like that.”

Shay can’t make out what Keith types in to the panel, but there’s an affirmative beep and they proceed into the parking lot. He notices her watching.

“You’ll get your own car later, and then you’ll get your own codes. Everyone’s are unique, so we can track your movements.”

“Figures. My own car?” The lot is half-full of heavy-duty escort vehicles, and cars that look too fast and expensive for her to drive. _I wonder if one of these is mine_. Keith pulls into a spot.

“C’mon. Coran should have arranged for someone to show you to the Crown Wing. I’ll check around.” Keith says, and gets out of the car.

“Crown Wing? Shouldn’t I be going to Household?” Shay asks. Keith opens her car door, and she gets out awkwardly clutching her bags.

Keith gives her an unreadable look. “Uh… no. You’re a member of the court, not staff. And you’ll also be working closer with the Princess than anyone else - your chambers need to be near hers. Coran didn’t mention that?”

“No, he didn’t.” _And I had not thought about it either._ The idea of a big hallway full of other staff had sounded kind of like her university dorm. Spending 24 hours a day at the Princess’ beck and call sounded a lot less enjoyable.

Keith seems to want to say something else, but instead he checks the time on his phone. “I’m going to go look around for Coran, or somebody who knows where you’re supposed to go. Wait here.” He leaves Shay alone with her luggage in the parking lot.

 _Well,_ Shay thinks. _Not exactly a royal welcome._

She sits down on one of her bags next to the red van. She can feel a small pit in her stomach, almost like the first day of school. A new place, new people, and no idea where she’s supposed to be or whether she belongs here yet. The feeling is familiar, and even though it’s not a comfortable feeling, the recognition makes her confident. _I cannot believe I am doing this._

The sound of an engine around the corner draws her attention. A sleek, purple car with bronze racing rims accelerates through the just-lifted-high-enough security gate. It's coming directly at Shay.

She reacts instinctively, yanking her bags backwards. _A half-empty parking lot, and this asshole has to park here?_ She avoids flipping him off, in case this is a co-worker she’ll have to see a lot of. First impressions can be misleading, but already, she’s not impressed.

The driver’s side door _lifts up,_ and Shay rolls her eyes a little. Not that the driver notices - he’s facing away from her still, shaking out a long mane of bleached hair for no discernible reason. He swivels, and looks Shay up and down with about as much interest as one would usually reserve for a street lamp.

“Are you lost?”

If the car hadn’t been enough of an indication, the stranger’s aloof tone solidifies Shay’s impression. This is not a co-worker. This guy is so privileged it’s coming off of him like stink lines.

“I mean, I just got dropped off, so n-”

“Really? By whom?”

The stranger circles the front of the car, and walks towards her. He’s not bad-looking, now that Shay can get a better look at him. Pale, skinny guys with mascara aren’t her type, but guys aren’t her type, so that doesn’t mean much. She doesn’t like the way he's studying her, though.

“Uh, his name is Keith,” Shay says. The stranger stiffens, and she worries that wasn't enough information.

“He’s a Lieutenant, in the Garrison? It’s actually my first day, I’m-”

“Fascinating.” The stranger interrupts, and Shay splutters. He cocks his head, like a cat observing a mouse.

“You didn’t look like one of Shirogane’s at first glance... but I suppose you might be tougher than you look.”

He gets uncomfortably close, and whispers in her ear:  “A word of advice?" He enunciates each word as though he were speaking to a toddler. "You’re in over your head. Quit.”

The stranger backs away before Shay can react.

“Look, Coran’s come to fetch you. See you around… or not,” he says softly.

Shay turns her back on him, and sees Coran walking briskly towards her, typing on a smartphone with his head down. When she pivots again, the stranger is gone, and the door that Keith left through is swinging on its hinges.

_Who the quiznak was that? And did he just threaten me? Or give me a warning?_

“Good morning, Lady Vox!” Coran says. Shay resigns herself to the idea that he might always be a degree too chipper for her liking.

“Good morning,” she says, trying to shake off the previous encounter. Probably some random noble dude, trying to intimidate a new face. Weird, and definitely creepy, but not ominous. Nothing to worry about.

“Welcome to the Castle!” Coran grins at Shay and extends a hand. “I trust Lieutenant Shirogane was good company.”

“Better than expected, given his first impression, Sir.” She shakes his hand.

Coran makes a chiding noise. “It’s just Coran, remember?”

“Okay. Maybe you can stop calling me Lady Vox, then? It’s not really necessary either.”

“As you wish... Lady Shay!” He waggles his eyebrows, but Shay doesn't give him the satisfaction. _An oversized red mustache is an unfair comedic advantage_ , she decides, _and he looks entirely too pleased with himself. That was barely even a dad joke_.

Coran, not affected in the least by her lack of reaction, snaps his fingers, and two valets appear out of nowhere, taking her bags.

“Whoa, can you call them off? I can carry my own bags, thanks.”

“Nonsense, they’ll be sent up to your personal chambers, which I’ll show you to later. First, we have a tour to take!” Coran leads her into the Castle.

“I don’t know if I mentioned this already, but in addition to my role as the King’s Chamberlain, I am the Chief of Staff here at the Palace,” Coran says.

“What’s a Chamberlain? Are you a personal assistant too?” Shay asks.

Coran opens his mouth, then shuts it.

“Well… yes, in a sense. I coordinate the King’s schedule, arrange royal balls and meetings with dignitaries, oversee the running of the Castle, and take on any and all other responsibilities the King entrusts me with. So I _suppose_ my job is a bit like yours. Only, harder! And more demanding.”

Shay gives him a look.

“It also requires more qualifications.”

She resists another eye roll.

“But your job is important as well! Every cog in a clock needs to be in tip-top shape, or the whole thing won’t tick!” He punctuates the end of his sentence by throwing wide a set of double doors, and the sight of the main hall of the Castle takes her breath away.

Shay has imagined what a palace entrance hall might look like, but nothing she made up was as grand as this. She speed walks to keep up with Coran, who doesn’t so much as glance around. They march across the marble floor and start up the wide staircase carpeted in thick, deep blue. Coran barely seems to notice the gilded handrails, or the chandeliers, or the bustling maids in crisp uniforms nodding and curtsying as he passes by.

 _I could never get that used to all this,_ Shay marvels. _I feel lightheaded just thinking about it._

“We don’t have time for a full tour, but I will give you a brief overview of the grounds as we go. Then I’ll show you to your accommodations, and we can deal with some necessary paperwork.” Coran stops at the top of the staircase, noticing that Shay is leaning on the handrail and staring at an oil painting over the entrance.

The dark wood frame dominates the wall, and from their vantage point on the stairs they are almost at eye level with the young woman depicted in it. She’s seated in what looks like a small study, wearing a modern white dress and a simple gold crown with a green jewel in the center. She practically glows against the dark leather-bound books behind her.

“Who’s she?” Shay asks.

“You are expected to do research on the history of the Crown in your free time,” Coran replies.

“I thought this was a tour?”

He inhales deeply. “That is a portrait of Queen Fala, depicted in her private study just before her wedding to King Alfor.” He falters. “I would recommend that you avoid speaking about the late Queen in front of the Princess. No child should have to lose a parent, and the manner of Fala’s passing was uniquely difficult for her to understand.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Shay mentally kicks herself for being so insensitive, and makes a note to not ask more unnecessary questions, until she can decide whether they’re stupid questions.

“It’s perfectly alright. Now,” he claps his hands together, “on with the tour, yes? Good.”

Reinvigorated, Coran marches onward, down the long, confusing hallways of the Castle. Shay can do little more than keep up, and try to remember as many of his directions as possible. Then she’s given a swipe card and a sealed envelope by a hurried Captain Shiro, who instructs her to memorize the instructions and codes within and burn the envelope within the next 72 hours. She nods, reeling - at least she has the swipe card for her room, so she won’t forget how to open that.

A few passageways later, Coran leads her to the Crown wing. Shay can see why Keith didn’t point it out on the drive in - it must be set into the mountainside. The hall is quite long, but not as tall and grand as the others. The left side is lined by beautiful, wide-paned windows, while the right has a set of life-size statues in between the widely-spaced doors. The statues are placed opposite to the windows, and from the courtyard below, the stone figures must look like sentries on guard. Coran stops at the first door.

“If you please,” he says, pointing to her swipe card.

Shay’s still a bit unsteady from the whirlwind tour, but she’s managed to hold onto the swipe card. The light turns green, and Coran holds the door open for her to enter.

 _This… is my apartment?_ Shay can hardly believe her eyes. There are no windows, but she hadn't expected that to make the room so cozy. She lets out a small sigh at the sight of the large, fluffy sofa in front of the electric fireplace. It looks like there’s a sitting room, with a stainless steel kitchenette on the far wall, and an island with stools. Through an open door she can see a white bedroom, her two suitcases… and is that her own bathroom?

“This is all mine?” Shay says. This is a huge improvement on her dorm room, even better than her parent’s house. It’s like the coziest hotel suite she could have imagined.

“Of course! Let’s see, the kitchen isn’t stocked at the moment, but if you wish to cook for yourself you should have everything you need. The Princess’ chambers are next to yours, and the King’s chambers are at the end of the hall, but apart from those two every other suite in this wing is unoccupied. You are not to go exploring, that’s very important. What else do you need to know… cleaning service is three times a week, unless you want to opt out -”

“I would never,“ she says.

“Well then, I believe we’re nearly done your tour. One last thing,” he gestures with a sweeping motion to her new desk, “Check inside the top drawer.”

Shay indulges his dramatics. Inside is a sleek new tablet, a leatherbound journal, and a small binder.

“A new laptop?”

“If you’d prefer to use your own machine...”

“Yeah, no. I would not prefer - thank you.” She thinks about the ancient netbook in the bottom of her suitcase.

Coran looks proud. “You’re welcome! I thought it would be simpler to keep track of your digital comings-and-goings with these, instead of having to hack your current devices. I’m glad you agree.”

“...yeah, thanks.” Shay makes a mental note to never use the new laptop for anything personal. “What about the rest of this?” she asks, flipping open the sturdy journal.

“That’s Princess Allura’s timetable. I’ve taken the liberty of filling out the next two days, so you have a bit of a buffer. After that, you’ll be responsible for her appointments. This,” he grabs the binder and puts it in her hands, “contains all the information you should need for that.”

Shay opens the binder on top of the desk. There’s about four dozen business cards, laminated and accompanied by detailed notes in what must be Coran’s handwriting.

“These are your contacts. Information about Royal engagements will come from me, but other questions can be directed to any of these people.” He runs his finger down the first page: “This is her private tutor, Professor Zanbazir- she meets with her on weekdays for education on royal affairs, politics, and public policy. And here’s the address of the stables for her horse, then her etiquette and speech coach, and this is her armed combat instructor.” Shay’s head is spinning. “Oh! And also her sensei. His phone number is here.”

Coran closes the book. “I’ll trust you to look over the rest of the Princess’ contacts, as there are emergency numbers for myself and a few other Castle staff - oh! I almost forgot,” he rummages around in his pockets, “here are your car keys. Just head down to the main parking lot and click this button, your car will be the one that lights up.”

Shay meekly reaches out a hand, and Coran drops the keys into it. He checks his watch.

“Is there anything else I can do for you? I’ve got to run, but I can answer a few questions.”

Shay skims tomorrow’s schedule - it’s about 3 in the afternoon, and by this time tomorrow the Princess will have already had four different appointments. It’s overwhelming how busy she is - and how busy Shay is about to be keeping up with her. How is this appropriate for a child?

“What about down time?” she asks.

“You may spend your weekends how you wish, barring any special engagements. There are a few gaps in the timetable most days, but you can trust the Princess to fend for herself at those times.”

 _Seems awfully self-sufficient for someone who needs a nanny,_ Shay thinks.

“Right, I meant the Princess' down time, not mine. Does she take naps? Oh, and is she a picky eater? That’s important to know.” Coran looks at her, puzzled. “I’m just saying there doesn’t seem to be much about her personality here,” she clarifies.

“I’m confident you’ll get to know the Princess fairly quickly, and any personality conflicts that arise can be brought to my attention.” He stands to leave. “Any information that you can’t find in those documents can most likely be researched in your free time, as stated in your contract.”

"Thanks for letting me know." _I should_ _review that first thing after he leaves,_ Shay thinks.

“If anything else comes up, just ask me. And welcome to the job!” he calls on his way out. He shuts the door behind him, and Shay is alone in her chambers.

 _I really should have done this sooner,_ Shay thinks, sitting down at the desk and fixing her attention on the contract, reproduced in the back of the binder. Coran’s tour had been short and sweet, and it was becoming clear to her that he was not the most reliable boss, at least where job training was concerned. This was what throwing someone in the proverbial deep end without a life jacket looked like.

_But I am here now. And I would rather swim than sink._

She knew the basics of the job from her brief initial reading of the contract. She’d skimmed over details of Royal protocol and confusing descriptions of life in the court. Those, she figures, must be archaic formalities that she’ll be able to study later. She can’t imagine real people going about their days with such strict guidelines. Specifics on how far away from a royal to walk when accompanying them in public? She doubts that anyone’s going to pull out a tape measure to check.

As she noticed earlier, there is no personal information about the Princess. No photographs, no descriptions, not even so much as a birthday. Shay wishes she knew her age at least, since the babysitting is what she’s most worried about - the rest of the job seems manageable, if confusing at times.

She doesn’t have to wake up or put the Princess to bed, thank goodness. Her duties begin after breakfast and end at dinner. She is to drive the Princess to and from her commitments, coordinate with Castle staff and outsiders for special engagements, and maintain her daily schedule to keep her running on time. Weekends are set aside for leisure, and she will attend events the Crown is hosting “at the Princess’ discretion”.

“Oh man,” Shay says, reading the next line:

“...upon signing, a Lady-in-Waiting agrees to seek knowledge of the personal history of the Princess and the customs of the Crown prior to commencement of the position.”

 _So that is why Coran looked at me like that when I asked questions about the Princess. I guess I should get some Googling done._    Shay leans back in her chair while the new laptop whirs to life. _How much time do I have to settle in?_ Coran didn’t mention when she was meeting the Princess, or if anything was scheduled for today. She opens the journal to the first timetable page.

“Shit!” Shay sits upright in her chair.

The Princess’ riding lesson ends in ten minutes. And according to Coran’s notes… yup. It’s a forty-five minute drive from the Castle.

She springs up, tucking the journal, her swipe card, and the envelope of codes into her back pocket. _Stupid Coran. Stupid, inadequate instructions._ Hopefully the Princess will be forgiving on her first day. She slams the door, and bolts in what she’s praying is the correct direction to the parking lot.

 

* * *

 

“It could be worse,” Shay says to herself, “you could have not picked her up at all.” She found her car easily, and the GPS instructions were much more efficient than Coran’s - or maybe she drove a lot faster than he did. She’s only half an hour late, driving down the long dirt road to the stables where the Princess would be waiting for her.

“It could be worse,” Shay says again. She’s trying very hard not to freak out about this first impression. She wants the Princess to like her - if she doesn’t, this job could go from a challenging adventure to a nightmare of royal proportions. _I wish I knew more about her - anything would help. What am I supposed to say?_

She turns into a roundabout driveway. There are several girls waiting in front of the stables for their rides. Shay slowly brings the car to a stop, looking each one up and down. _How do I know which one is the Princess?_  She hopes she doesn’t have to get out and call her name. The Altean flag decal on the license plate should be enough, but none of the girls seem to recognize the car.

The back door on the opposite side opens, and Shay nearly hits the roof of the car. Someone gets in.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show. Drive, please.”

In a moment that feels ages long, Shay lays eyes on the Princess for the first time.

_Oh no._

Her skin is dark, darker than Shay’s, and beaded with sweat. She’s looking out the window, completely ignoring the awestruck girl in the driver’s seat. Her long, white hair is piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and there are some loose strands sticking to the sides of her face.

_Oh shit._

She’s wearing tall, black boots, white leggings, a white turtleneck, and a navy blue blazer, all of which hug her slender figure just so. Shay can’t help her eyes from lingering slightly longer than they should, where the soft curve of her hip meets her thigh...

_Quiznak._

The Princess is a young woman. Maybe even older than Shay.

And she’s _gorgeous._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m imagining the Garrison as kind of being like the Swiss Guard in the Vatican, but with less stupid uniforms. They’re an elite private military force, so, natch, Keith is in.
> 
> Also, it leads to a few moments of awkward phrasing, but my headcanon is that Shay thinks in Balmeran, which is an older, more formal language than Altean. That’s why she uses contractions out loud, but not in her thoughts. I think this meshes pretty well with how she speaks in the show.
> 
> Next chapter: Two very Royal, very awkward first impressions, and Shay being a certified Useless Lesbian around Allura. It’s okay, honey. We know. Us too.
> 
> Updates are postponed until after the next season! My outline keeps changing too much as new information gets released, and I don't want to regret writing something plot-specific if it gets countered by backstory revelations in the new season.


End file.
